


Catmint Ghoul

by ferbiedragon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, i am suffering, please let it end well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-13 10:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15362133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferbiedragon/pseuds/ferbiedragon
Summary: She finds him crawling free of a grave in the half-frozen dirt, which is not at all the way she usually meets people.





	1. Finding

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, name's ferbie! this is the first fix i'm posting here, and it is, of course, a fix-it, because mollymauk tealeaf... is my favorite critical role character. if there had to be one.
> 
> might continue, might not. i'm not sure! we'll see how the show goes, how the dice roll. for now... moving forward.
> 
> -ferbie

She finds him crawling free of a grave in the half-frozen dirty, which is not at all the way she usually meets people. 

To start: 

Isabel is running, as fast as she can manage, which is not so terribly fast at all. The snow makes things more difficult, even with Laddybuck braving the path before her, thick fur and broad chest helping the hound clear a path for his master to travel. Her pack is heavy, massive, all laden with her worldly possessions. They’re both tired, and cold, and she’s just hoping they find somewhere to set up camp before it’s too cold and dark and they end up dead and curled on the ground. 

Not a bad death, compared to others they might have. Isabel just hopes the snow falling now is enough to cover their tracks. She thinks it will. It doesn’t seem like it will slow any time soon. 

It happens like this: she’s moving slower as the sun dips down, breathing hard in puffs of frosty air. She looks around, seeking shelter; her pack is heavy on her back, and she has a tent, a bedroll, but there must be somewhere best to put it. “Lad,” she calls to her hound, and sees his massive head lift from where he’d been sniffing at a bush nearby. “We need to stop soon. Do you see any place safe to camp?” and perhaps another hound would not understand, but Laddybuck has always been smart, and their bond is strong. 

She is not a ranger for nothing. 

The dog watches her with intelligent brown eyes, then turns his head, sniffing, floppy ears twitching upwards like he hears something, like he sees something. He starts a new path, pushing through snowdrifts towards a copse of trees nearby. Isabel follows, shivering some. Her stomach growls. Definitely time to stop. 

She thinks that the trees will make it easier to camp, that they might keep the tent from shuddering with the wind and snow. She’s pondering how to she’ll make a fire- she brought dry wood with her, she’s sure- when suddenly Laddybuck stops, and growls, and Isabel smells blood on the wind.

She tenses, hands drawing to her bow, then pauses. The smell seems- old. Rusty and aged, like blood does tend to be when it’s been a time. And Laddybuck is not snarling, ready to fight with lips drawn free of his teeth; he’s growling, a warning, telling her that something is there, telling something that they were there, do not come closer, stand down, thank you.

“What is it, Lad?” she asks quietly, approaching where he stands, staring at a trio of trees in the distance. She reaches out and touches his big head as she approaches, smoothing black and white and brown fur with her gloved fingers. His gaze remains focused into the distance, tail still behind him, fur smooth and unbristled. If Isabel had to guess… “A hurt Friend?”

They have nursed injured animals to health before. A mink, three squirrels, a deer, once an owlbear- and she has the scars on her fingers from the biting little beak- and it’s usually Laddybuck who first finds them. He’s got a kind soul, tends to like helping others who need it. His paternal instincts can be alarmingly strong. 

Laddybuck whuffs, softly, under his breath. Isabel takes stock of their supplies in her mind, the catalogue of things she keeps meticulously labeled in her head, and decides that yes, perhaps they do have enough to help an injured Friend, provided it isn’t too large. “If it’s bigger than a rabbit, we might need to give it mercy.” she informs her hound softly, though she’s always loathe to do so. She’s had to end the suffering of a handful of Friends before, and it is never something she enjoys. 

The hound doesn’t budge, so Isabel nods. “Alright. Show me, Lad.” and Laddybuck starts forwards, nose twitching as he seeks out the source of whatever he’s scented.

“Would that I had the nose of a hound.” Isabel mutters under her breath as she follows. “I suppose then I’d forever be dragging us off the side of the road, looking for injured birds while we’re fleeing for our lives… we’d never get anything done, would we, Lad?” she allows herself a faint laugh. “Not that I make things easier. I give in so easily… Well, perhaps we’ll enjoy our new-” she stops. 

There’s a noise. At first, she thinks it’s the muffled noise of some injured beast, but as she listens closer, it sounds… different. Like words, quiet. Like crying.

“Empty.” it chokes. “Emp… ty.”

“Oh, rose petals.” she gasps. It isn’t a beast that Laddybuck has found. It’s something else, something that speaks. She hurries forward and overtakes the hound, listens for the noise and pinpoints it- behind a tree, there, yes- and rounds the trunk and there, there in the snow and dirt and covered in blood-

A tiefling. Purple, horned, red eyes- wrapped in a garish coat and an outrageous tapestry. Stained with blood and dirt and tears, crouched like a child beside a clawed hole of frozen dirt, holding his head in his hands and gasping, sobbing softly into his knees. “Empty, empty-”

“Laddybuck,” she says quietly, as she stands over him, as her hound comes to her side and whines softly at the man, “That is much bigger than a rabbit.”

==

It turns out that all he can say is that. ‘Empty’, over and over again. Isabel’s done her best with him, but it’s sort of an uphill battle with very few resources in the first place. 

They’re sheltered in the tent now, at least, although three of them scarcely fit, her and Laddybuck and this strange tiefling with his dirty clothes and the tapestry like a shawl over his shoulders. She’s searched him from head to toe and found no injury to explain the blood on his chest, although that makes little enough sense, because- well. Because there’s obviously been a battle. It feels… like hallowed ground. It’s unsettling.

Laddybuck has taken an intense interest in their new companion, as he always does, although- he’s usually not so forward with humanoid creatures, not so friendly with ones who aren’t her. As the tiefling mutters to himself, broken, weak- “empty, empty”- the hound scoots closer, dragging himself nearer with his front paws. 

“Well, what do we do with him now?” Isabel asks the dog, digging through her oversized pack, fingers gradually warming and loosening. The wind outside has picked up, but the trees do well at keeping it from ripping the tent from one side to the other. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I’m good at tending beasts, Lad, but I’m no cleric. I can’t heal… whatever that is.” she furrows her brow. “It must be… magical? Maybe a feeblemind spell. Would that do something like this? Rose petals, this is foolish.” 

Laddybuck turns his head and whuffs. The tiefling flinches at the sound, but doesn’t stop murmuring. 

“Yes, I can tell you like him, Lad. That doesn’t solve the problem. Okay,” she pulls a package of rations from her bag and sighs softly. “We have at least a three day head start. They can’t be devoting too many resources to- finding us, so I doubt they’ll rush through the snow. There should be prey to hunt here, maybe not vegetation, but… crackers, but this is a fine mess we’re in.”

Isabel pulls open the package. Inside are several pieces of dried meat, some bread, a bit of soft salted cheese. She scoots closer to the tiefling. “Hey.” she says. “Here, ah…you, look up at me, if you could.” the tiefling stops muttering, but whimpers in his throat. She has to reach out and sort of- remove his head from his hands, so that he’ll look at her. 

His red eyes aren’t sad, or afraid. They’re just- 

Well. ‘Empty’ seems a bit on the nose, but if it fits…

“Crackers. Alright. Here.” she offers him some of the bread. “I don’t know who you are, or what happened to you, but a bit of food should do you good. Eat up, you strange purple man. It might make you feel better.”

She smiles, to try and make it more palatable, but he just stares at her blankly. She sighs softly. “Oh, I was never meant for talking to people people. Laddybuck, I should leave you in the snow for this. Here, you catmint colored- here.” she takes his hand and puts the bread into his palm. When he still does nothing, she lifts it to his mouth. “Open.” she says, half-expecting that it won’t work- except it does. He opens his mouth and bites down on the bread, and chews, and swallows. Relief soars through her; at least she won’t have to mash it up in water and spoon it to him like some toothless old wolf. 

She watches him as he eats, waiting for any sign of- anything. Pleasure in the taste. Relief. Comfort. But there’s nothing but the mechanical movements; bread to mouth, bite, chew, repeat. It’s the same when she hands him the cheese, a few strips of meat. 

“Right.” Isabel says, pulling out another pack of rations, as well as another that contains the meat and herb mixture Laddybuck prefers, which she opens and sets before him. “So we’ve established this is a mess, haven’t we? Because it is. Rose petals, I’m so tired I can barely think straight. How do we even solve… this?” she motions to the tiefling, looking at her dog as he eats his meal. “Nevermind our other problems. You’ve a terrible bleeding heart, Lad.” she sighs softly. Eats her own piece of bread, chewing thoughtfully. 

“...maybe it’ll pass.” she decides, finally. “Whatever’s wrong with you, catmint-color. Maybe after a meal and a rest… Crackers, you smell like a graveyard, did you know that? I’d call you a ghoul if I didn’t know better.” there’s no response. She gives a heavy sigh and reaches out, brushing crumbs from his face and chest. “Alright. Let’s just try and make it through the night. And- give me those-” there are a pair of swords at his side. She worries that he might hurt himself with them- or her, if he wakes in a rage or something, so she slides them away from him. He makes no motion to stop her. She sets them under her bag and then points to the floor. 

“Okay, so.... Ah. Lie down. Please,” she adds, after a moment. She gives the tiefling a little push, and he goes down easily enough, still wrapped in his tapestry with the garish dragon on the front, like some sort of terrible blanket. She makes a motion with her hand. “...go to sleep, then. You weird… Catmint Ghoul.” 

His eyes close immediately. She doesn’t know if he’s sleeping or not but she supposes it’s as good as she’ll get.

“Oh, Laddybuck. What have we gotten into now?” she sighs, pulling out her bedroll from her bag and spreading it in the space she has left. She climbs under the blanket and rests her head on her hound’s furry side. “Let’s say a prayer, shall we? To whatever god watches over this place. Let’s pray that the strange tiefling comes to himself and goes on his way tomorrow, and we can get moving again. Or- better- let’s hope he comes to, and he’s very rich and famous, and he offers to hide us for saving his life. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” she ruffles his thick fur. Laddybuck, head on his paws, huffs softly under his breath. 

“...yes, I know. We aren’t much for answered prayers, are we?” Isabel sighs, and then gives one final glance to the tiefling who is- sleeping, possibly?- near the front of the tent. “Crackers. Goodnight, Lad. Sleep well.” she sighs, and closes her eyes, and she is so tired that she is asleep in moments.


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nice to finally meet you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to continue this! I was really feeling it, tbh. It's helping me a lot. 
> 
> I don't know what's going to happen in Canon. I don't know of Mollymauk will come back or not. But it makes me feel better to imagine he will, and even if he doesn't remember anything, I like to think that he'll know he's loved, right from the start, this time.

It doesn't get much better the day after. Isabel finds this out first thing when she wakes, because there's a pair of red eyes glinting at her from the relative darkness of the tent and a voice that mutters, “Empty,” and she nearly faints dead away with shock. 

“Petals and pollen-" she chokes, rolling back some with shock, and then groans as she recalls the events of the previous night. Tiefling in a grave. Of course. She feels Laddybuck shift under her head, so she sits up, rubbing her eyes. Gradually she adjusts to the faint light in the tent, and makes out that the tiefling has sat up and is watching her, and is muttering again, of course. And that Laddybuck looks like he wants to get out. 

She doesn't hear the whistling winds of a snowstorm any longer, so she scoots forward on her knees towards the tent flaps. “Uh, excuse me.” She says, gently pressing the tiefling’s shoulder until he moves some, enough for her to unlatch the flaps and open them up to the cool air outside. 

It takes several moments of finagling to actually get out of the tent. Laddybuck goes first, breaking through the snow that's formed just outside with a delight bark. He trots off a ways to do whatever business he needs, and Isabel manages to clamber out, finally, breathing in cold, snowy air. 

It's morning, but only just, the sun just now rising to a point she can see it, flashing like diamonds on the snow. The ground is covered, almost entirely concealing the dirt that the tiefling had crawled out of, like some sort of cicada that ran too late for summer. It feels cleaner out here, at least, less grey and drab than it had in the evening. Snow does that, she supposes, same as a good rain. 

“Alright. Step one.” She turns, and leans down to peek into the tent. Red eyes stare back at her. “Come here, you. Let me have a better look.” She reaches and takes his sleeve, and manages to coax him out to stand before her. 

Her examination of him the night previous had been hurried, more of a “oh gods there's blood where are you hurt” sort of thing, concerned mostly with keeping him from bleeding out, although, well. She never did find a wound. He still has the blood on him now, dried all over the front of his shirt. She almost wonders if it's someone else's, although she's not sure how that would work, since he did sort of… dig himself out of the ground. That rather heavily implies some level of… she's not sure. 

One tends to bury dead bodies, mostly. She supposes a gang might bury someone alive to teach them a lesson, or to kill them cruelly, but… she doesn't think he was far enough down for that to be plausible. 

She doesn't know. It's a mystery, and Isabel hates mysteries, personally. Too stressful.

Aside from the blood, he's covered in dirt and dried sweat, piercings in his ears and horns, and his coat hangs with the tapestry from his shoulders. She can see… something, on his neck, obscured by fabric and dirt. She moves closer to him, hands up like she's soothing a wild animal, although he hardly reacts like one. “Sorry, I promise I'm not trying to hurt you or anything.” She says quietly, before she reaches out and tugs the color of his shirt to one side. 

There's a tattoo on his neck, she realizes. It looks like the tail of one of those fancy birds with the lustrous feathers- crackers, what are they called?- and it goes down beyond where she can see, but she's not willing to go any further. Personal space is important, even if he is… whatever he is. Incapacitated.

Beyond that, though, now that there's light and she's closer, she sees thin scars on his chest. Several of them. More than several- hundreds. “Crackers, friend, what happened to you?” She mutters, brow furrowed.

“Empty,” he says, which is just about what she expected. She clicks her tongue. 

“I wish people came with name tags, like dogs do.” She calls to Laddybuck, who glances up and barks, snow around his muzzle. Then she pauses, and turns her head. “Well, wait a minute. Why didn't I think of that? Maybe you've got something on you that says… something. Where you're from. Maybe a name.” She tilts her head. “I could look, I suppose, if you don't mind me going through your pockets-”

Then Laddybuck barks, a sharp alarm, and she twists around, tense and grabbing for her bow. The hound is staring out towards the road, and she can hear the sound of hoofbeats muffled by snow. Rose petals, have they found her? Can't be, not so soon, they'd never have made it through the snow so fast…

She waits, holding her breath, watching the road with her bow in hand. It's not particularly useful at the moment- she has no arrows. Used all of those getting away, and she hasn't had time to make more, stupid, idiot thing- but then a pair of horses pass carrying a woman she doesn't know and a heavy bag, perhaps a merchant with goods, and she relaxes, just a little. 

Still, it lights a fire. “No time for anything now.” She decides, finally. “Have to get moving. I guess you're with us for now, friend.” She breaks down the tent and straps it to her bag, then reaches in to a small pocket to fish out there small Goodberries.

They don't taste the best, but they're filling, and easy to eat. She whistles for Laddybuck and presses one into the tiefling’s hand. “Eat,” she tells him, and he does. She makes a face. “Crackers, you're lucky I'm not feeding you nightshade or something, trusting as you are.” She holds one in her palm and lets Laddybuck lap it up before she eats her own. 

“Alright, boys, let's get moving.” She reaches down and grabs the tiefling by the wrist, then pauses. “I'm assuming you're a boy, by the way. If I find out later you're a girl, I'll apologize. Or you could be neither. Or both. Rose petals, I'm sorry, I'm being rude.” She shakes her head. “We'll be moving as fast as we can, friend, and leaving as few tracks as possible, so try and stay close, if you could.” She smiles reassuringly.

He says nothing. Just stares. Not the worst she's had in the way of humanoid company, truth be told.

They move along, back onto the road, traveling through the path left by the woman and her horses. Isabel steps on each of Laddybuck’s pawprints so that only her steps are visible, and she supposes it'll help to have someone else come behind her, too.

None of them know she's now got a new companion, after all.

It's more open than she's used to traveling, but it's necessary, for the time. Cover is a bit hard to come by, as they trek away from the lawless land behind them. It's been a bit since she's seen a proper map, but Isabel thinks they're in the Dwendalian Empire now, which lends itself to some issues, considering what she's heard of it. Anything is better than before, though. 

“I'd like to stay away from any big cities, if we can.” She says, speaking to Laddybuck, and maybe the tiefling, too. “I'm not much for… excess company. The two-legged kind, anyway, not counting birds, of course, which have two legs but no arms. I've never much gotten along with other people, you see, well- Lad, I suppose you know that much. It's easier with animals.” She reaches up, unconsciously running her fingers over the edges of her ears, feeling the faint points there. “Animals don't tend to judge. Well- they do, but not quite in the same way as people. Then again, I suppose animals also don't tend to speak like people do, so that might explain why- well, I talk to animals, so people do give me off looks, I can't blame them for that- petals and pollen, I'm rambling like a fool.” She sucks in a breath. “I'm not made for company, truly. What an embarrassment I make.”

Laddybuck huffs loudly, the way she knows means he's disagreeing with her. 

“Oh, don't sweeten to me, Lad, you know it's true. Anyway, this current problem- excuse me,” she glances back at the tiefling, “that was rude, not problem, predicament is a better word,” she looks forward again, “This current predicament is entirely your fault in the first place.”

Laddybuck snorts sharply.

“Oh yes it is, you soft-hearted weevil. You wouldn't be satisfied with an injured bird, would you? Or another kitten. No, it had to be an entire person you found.” She smiles when she says it. As much of an issue it is, dragging a strange and incapacitated tiefling into what was already dangerous business, she's always admired her hound’s tendency to cozen to those who need help.

Even if she prefers it when those creatures are animals, and not weird purple tieflings.

==

They travel a good distance, before the sun begins to dip below the horizon. The snow on the ground has grown thinner, until it's almost entirely melted, and there's more tree cover around, which she prefers. As soon as she can, Isabel leads them off the main road into the relative safety beyond. This time of year, the leaves are sparse on anything aside from pine trees, but there's grass and brush enough to conceal them if they're careful. 

Throughout the entire journey, the tiefling has kept along behind her. He hasn't complained, hasn't really spoken up at all, which is somewhat disconcerting. In Isabel’s experience, people tend to whine a good deal about swift travel. By the time they stop, she's beginning to worry he might actually be undead or something.

Laddybuck finds a small stream with frigid water flowing through it, which easily decides their camping spot for the night. It's comparatively warmer where they are now, without the snow, so she pitches the tent but doesn't immediately huddle everyone inside of it. She takes time to build a small fire, the catmint tiefling standing nearby, still. 

“Here's my plan.” She says, crouching down to dig through her bag. “We'll rest here tonight, eat something, sleep… crackers, I'd like to wash a bit. Maybe I can. Maybe…” she looks at her companion and considers him. Dirt and blood.

“Alright.” She decides. She pulls a nightshirt out that, on her, is oversized, but will probably fit him better, and a bundle of washing cloths from her bag, then stands and walks to the tiefling. “I don't want to invade your personal space, friend, and I don't want you naked- but, and no offense meant, you really stink. I'm sure Lad enjoys it, maybe that's why he's so intent on helping you, but I've got mostly human senses and it's rather off-putting to have blood and dirt and sweat stinking up my tent. So let's take your, er, well. At least your shirt and coat and… blanket…? Off. And I'll wash what I can of them, and you can, er… well, I'll wash you off a bit too. That might make you more comfortable. Don't you think?”

He says nothing to her in response. She dislikes doing anything without him agreeing, but, well… well, she suspects that if he were not under the effects of whatever it is that's wrong with him, he'd probably like to be clean. It's all guesswork, honestly. 

She leads him over to the stream and pushes his shoulders until he sits, and then joins him. She's not particularly practiced at removing clothes from other people, but the tapestry and the coat are easy enough. She sets them aside to shake off later; she thinks they'd probably need someone more skilled than her to clean them without ruining them. 

Laddybuck splashes through to join them, tongue lolling. He gives the tiefling a nudge on the cheek with his nose, gentle, and then pushes his muzzle under Isabel’s hand until she pets him. She grins, scratching behind his ears. “Good boy.” She says. “Go out and try to find a rabbit or two, eh? Maybe a squirrel.” She kisses his snout. He wags his tail hard, barks, then turns and bounds away. Isabel sighs, and then turns her attention to the remaining layer of clothing. 

She pulls the shirt over his head, careful of the horns, the piercings that jingle as they're moving. When it's off, shakes it out a bit and turns it towards herself. Makes a face. There's blood all over it, dried and caked with dirt, and… “Petals and pollen, catmint, what in the world happened here?” She sticks her hand through a large slit in the chest, making a face. The cut through the fabric is clean, like it was made with a blade.

“...sorry. I think this is beyond my ability to salvage. I hope you weren't attached to it.” She sets the shirt aside, deciding she'll burn it later. She dips the cloths into the stream, wincing at the temperature. “This might be a bit cold, so I'm sorry about that.” She wrings the clothes out and touches it to his face.

He doesn't even flinch, and that breaks her heart, just a little. 

She cleans his face, his neck and shoulders, wincing at each scar she finds, marvelling at the artwork on his skin when she uncovers it. She pauses when she comes to his chest, because there's a larger scar there among the litany of others, one that she thinks matches the hole in his shirt. She can't even begin to guess what's happened to him. “This would have been easier if you'd been a rabbit.” She tells him quietly, continuing on to his back. “Not that you're to blame for that.”

Finally, he's as clean as she can get him, or at least- well, there's no more dirt or blood. She doesn't have a terrible amount of toiletries handy at the moment. She carefully pulls the nightshirt over his head and horns and tugs his arms through the sleeves, and then sighs softly.

“There. That's got to feel at least a little better.” She stands, puts her hands on her hips.

“Empty,” he says. She sighs, and nods. 

“I know. Empty. Let's see here…” she picks up the tapestry and shakes it free of dirt, then folds it carefully and puts it aside. It's not terribly dirty, no blood on it, not ripped or torn.. his coat is a bit more of a mess. Not quite as bloodied as the shirt had been, but there's still enough on it that she considers tossing it into the fire. 

When she feels the embroidery under her fingers, though, sees the care with which someone has sewn these patterns… she decides against it. Maybe they'll find a small village where it can be cleaned. She lifts it up and shakes it out to remove any dirt stuck to the fabric.

A slip of parchment drops out of one of the pockets and lands on the ground. Intrigued, Isabel bends down to pick it up, slowly unfolds it to read what's inside. 

Her eyebrows raise. After several long moments, she folds the coat over her arm and returns to the tiefling, crouching down to meet his eyes. She smiles, warmly.

“You've got friends that love you somewhere, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”


	3. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _how does one choose a name, anyway?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! Let's see what happens this time.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone for all the kindness I've been shown, from the kudos to the comments. Thank you all so much.

Here is what Isabel knows:

His name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. He fell in battle, and that- she can’t even begin to unpack _that_ , she supposes she’s heard of clerics bringing people back from the dead, but just spontaneously reanimating is way beyond her understanding- but evidently this is something his friends, _The Mighty Nein_ , what a name, anticipated because they left him with a note in his pocket. Which leads her to wonder why they left him in the first place, if they thought he’d come back. 

Maybe it wasn’t guaranteed? Rose petals, she’s not used to parsing things like this. This is- this is work for a paladin, for a priest, not her, just a ranger with a dog. 

But here is what else she knows:

His friends, this Mighty Nein, can be found in Zadash, or there is a man called the Gentleman there who will know further what to do, and she’s dealt with people with names like that before, just words, titles. She doesn’t know him, but she suspects- she suspects he’s trouble, this Gentleman. And she dislikes the idea of meeting more trouble. She has enough as it is.

Furthermore, she knows _of_ Zadash, but it isn’t a place she’s been before. This is, after all, the very first time she’s set foot in the Dwendalian Empire. She hasn’t seen a map of the entirety of Wildemount for a good deal of time, but she seems to recall that Zadash is somewhere near Rexxentrum, and that it’s probably a long walk there. A long walk she doesn’t think he could make on his own, given his current state. 

Which doesn’t leave her with very many options.

And so, last of all, she knows this:

She can’t just pat his head and send him off into the unknown by himself. She doesn’t think Laddybuck would let her, if she tried, and, well… well, she wouldn’t try, either. Perhaps she’s a soft touch too, but there’s something about this scarred, empty tiefling that makes her want to make sure he gets where he needs to go. It isn’t quite the same feeling she gets when she helps an injured animal, but it’s… close. Maybe, she ponders, it’s the tail.

She thinks about all of this as she sits at the fire, Laddybuck stretched out behind her and Mollymauk off to the side. There are two scrawny rabbits roasting on sticks over the fire, cleaned and gutted and salted lightly, since she doesn't have a good deal in the way of fixings. She's always been perfectly fine with simple meals like this. She's had people complain about it before, but she's never understood. Oh well.

She's making arrows, whittling down a few thin branches to size, a pouch of metal arrowheads beside her. She'd been terrified that morning, when she'd heard possible danger and had nothing to defend herself. She's decided that's not going to happen again, and roots take her for letting it go in the first place.

It's boring, methodical work, the sort she can lose herself in. It gives her time to think, which is good, because that's what she needs.

Mollymauk shifts slightly, and Isabel turns her head to look at him, brows raised. She had hoped earlier that the sound of his name might draw _some_ reaction from him, and it had, possibly, a faint glimmer in the depths of his eyes, but it had faded quickly. It was a little disheartening, but… well. Well, if he really had died and come back, that is an awful lot to go through. Maybe that explains it. Maybe he just needs time.

For now, she's at least decided she'll use his name as much as she can. Just in case. 

“I hope you like rabbit, Mollymauk.” She says, her knife moving with practiced ease over the arrow shafts she's carving. She takes a moment to turn the meat over the fire to cook on the other side. “These two are sort of scrawny. It is sort of cold, so I suppose we can just suplement it some with the ration packs.”

He says nothing. His eyes are on the fire, staring into it. She'd be worried about his sight if he didn't take the time to blink now and then.

Laddybuck, for his part, lifts his head at the mention of ration packs. He likes cheese a good deal.

“Oh don't try it with me, Lad. Don't think I don't know you filled up on rabbit before you brought these two back.” She laughs, under her breath, at the scandalized look the hound gives her. “Crackers, how did you ever end up as such a beggar?” She shakes her head. 

They sit in silence for a time, the only sounds the fire, the cooking meat, and the rasp of her blade on wood. When the rabbit is cooked, Isabel sets her work aside to take them off the fire. She hands Mollymauk one of the skewers.

“Try that.” She says, and smiles slightly. “Eat up, Mollymauk. I feel like we've definitely got a journey ahead of us.” 

There's that glint again, at the sound of his name, but it fades. He lifts the skewer to his mouth and eats quietly.

Isabel presses more, as she follows suit.

“You know,” she says, chewing on a tough bit of rabbit. “Your name sounds very much like a song. Not one I know or anything. I just mean- well, it flows very well, doesn't it? Mollymauk.” She tilts her head. “Mollymauk Tealeaf. Your parents must have been fond of you to name you that. Unless they didn't? I've met people who choose their own names. I don't suppose it matters. It's nice.”

Laddybuck nudges her elbow and whines, giving her his most wounded look. She pulls off a bit of meat from the rabbit’s flank I offers it to him. “Maybe I ought to do that, choose a name for myself. Rose petals, I don't even have a surname. I suppose that does happen when you're mostly raised by hounds.” She shrugs. “I didn't choose Isabel, you know. It's just the name I remember. I've had people call me Izzy before. I can't say I'm a terrible fan of that. Your name does lend itself to nicknames, though, you know. Molly, at the least.” She pauses. “Not that I'll call you that without permission. Just so long as you don't call me Izzy.”

Laddybuck whines for more meat and she gives him a sour look- as well as another bit of meat. “Yes, you can be happy with your name, Lad, I chose it for you! It's a good name. I might've been better off calling you Glutton, though.” She looks to Mollymauk, but he's eating, silent, staring into the fire. 

Isabel finishes her food and decides she isn't hungry enough to add a ration pack to it. She goes back to making arrows, until she's got a decently sized pile of them. She fletches them with blue feathers stored in her pack, and then tucks them into her quiver, already feeling safer. 

When Mollymauk finishes as well, there's little else to do but climb into the tent and go to sleep. The tiefling curls up under his tapestry without complaint near the tent entrance, and Isabel watches him, as she stretches out on her bedroll and rests her head on Laddybuck's side. 

Time, she thinks again. He just needs time.

==

Isabel wakes in darkness to the feel of cool night air on her face. Which is very strange, she thinks, because she's fairly certain she secured the tent flaps before she settled in.

She opens her eyes with a start and finds the tent illuminated blue with moonlight. The front of it is open, the flaps shifting in the breeze. Alarmingly, there's no sign of the purple tiefling sleeping beneath his tapestry.

“Oh petals and pollen.” She gasps, sitting up and scrabbling forwards. Laddybuck snorts and his eye twitches open briefly, then closes again. She shakes his big body. “Wake up. Wake up, Lad! He's gone. Come help me find him.” The dog groans and slowly gets to his paws, and Isabel ducks out of the tent and into the outside.

It's easy enough to pick up his tracks. Isabel is pretty good at noticing those things, and Mollymauk doesn't seem to be trying to conceal himself. Besides that, Laddybuck has his scent in just a few moments, and so the two of them take off at a jog after the trail.

It leads into the deeper forest, following the stream. The waters grow stronger the further they go, until it's more a river than anything. 

They find him standing waist-deep in the cold water, staring up between the empty branches of the trees at the moon. He's got a hand on his chest, rubbing where Isabel knows that one large scar is, and he's murmuring to himself, though she can't hear what he says. She and Laddybuck stop at the bank.

“Stay here.” She tells the dog, quietly. “I don't know what's going on.” Laddybuck sits, and then focuses on the tiefling in the water, front paws working the ground.

Isabel steps into the water with bare feet and winces at the chill. She splashes forward, a bit noisily, hoping she won't startle him too badly out of… whatever he's doing. She stops when she's knee-deep in the cold river. “Mollymauk.” She says, quietly. He doesn't respond, so she tries again, louder. “Mollymauk?”

He stops muttering, and then turns. His red eyes focus on her, and it's different than before. There's _light_ in them now, and he looks… he looks confused. Amazed. Unsure.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” he says, softly, and then louder, “I _remember_.”


	4. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _let's discuss this outside of the freezing cold river, please_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter four! Seems like Molly's come to himself a little more, which is always good. Isabel surely loves communicating with other people, after all. She's very good at it.
> 
> (that's a lie. she is not, at all.)

He remembers-

Fear. The smell of dirt in his lungs and then _real_ dirt in his lungs and he’s clawing upwards, desperate, terrified, freeing himself from the earth and lunging forwards into a frozen world of snow that burns on his cheeks and and nothing, nothing inside, nothing, _empty-_

And before that-

A raven- no, not a raven, a man, black hair and kind eyes, comes closer to him and stretches out a hand and then pulls it away, smiling, reassuring, and-

And before that-

Pain. Burning, deep pain that rattles through his body and shakes him to his core, and the feel of his heart struggling to beat in his chest, and a face- staring him down- and he spits and he doesn’t close his eyes but he can’t see anymore and it’s dark and deep and he doesn’t- want-

And-

Voices. Faces. He can see them, fuzzy, in his mind. No names. Just feelings. Warm and happy, laughter, tears, seeking their fates in the cards he turns over and he doesn’t know them but he _knows_ they were there, who- flashes of a massive tent and swords in his hands and eyes that don’t match and-

And then nothing. Nothing but his name, that precious name he knows as _his, he hears it and knows, ‘that’s me’,_ and he- isn’t sure what to do. 

It doesn’t come to him all at once, these memories. When the woman with the dog first says his name, it’s only an inkling, a feeling. It’s familiar, the sound of it, like a poem, like a song, and suddenly there is not _nothing_ inside of him, but _something_ , and that is- overwhelming, to say the least. And then, as time passes, as the woman- her name is Isabel, he reminds himself, her dog is Laddybuck- as Isabel sits beside him near the fire, as she roasts meat and chats idly to him, the sound of his name each time from her mouth makes his heart stutter in his chest and he knows, he _knows_ that it’s him. That there is something there.

And when he tries to sleep that night, it’s too much. He leaves the tent and wanders off, following the water until it flows stronger, and then he stands inside of it to feel the chill of it soaking into his pant legs and he looks up at the moon, and he _remembers_.

It isn’t everything. He’s positive it isn’t everything, but it’s _something_ , and that’s enough for now. He feels the scar on his chest and murmurs to himself that it’s alright, that it’s better now. He isn’t empty any longer. 

And then Isabel splashes into the water after him and he turns, and he tells her, and when she stares at him in shock he smiles, _grins_ , and it feels _right_. 

==

“You remember.” Isabel repeats, watching him, trying to ignore the chilly water lapping at her feet, soaking through her pant legs. “That’s very good. What do you, er- you know? We should discuss this outside of the water. On solid ground, preferably, it’s really sort of cold out.” she hopes he’ll come back to shore without fighting or… running off. Evidently he has more in his vocabulary now than ‘empty’ and so she’s not quite sure what she can expect from him.

To her relief, he shifts and starts splashing through the water towards the bank. Sighing softly, she does the same, and winces at the cool air on her now wet clothing. “Crackers, I hope neither of us catches cold.” 

Laddybuck whuffs softly, and trots over to where Mollymauk is wringing water from the ends of his coat. The hound’s tail wags hard as he greets him, and Mollymauk looks down and chuckles softly, reaching to put a hand on Laddybuck’s head. “I remember you, don’t worry.” he reassures, which seems to please Laddybuck a good deal, from the way he wiggles with delight. Spoiled rotten hound, Isabel thinks. 

“You’ve made his day. Well, night. It’s still night.” she walks closer, and smiles. “You could have waited until morning to have your… er, whatever it was? No offense meant, though. It’s good to see you…” she searches for the right word.

“Coherent?” Mollymauk asks.

“That’s a good word.” she clicks her tongue. “I’m glad whatever it was wore off. I don’t know that I have the coin to bring you to a cleric.”

“Oh.” Mollymauk blinks, and then starts reaching through his pockets, almost out of instinct, before he stops. “I thought I had… did I? Oh, that’s wonderful, I can’t remember if I had any money.”

“I never saw any. Just a note.” she shrugs. “I didn’t want to go through your pockets too much, though.”

“Hm.” he searches for a moment more, and then pulls out what looks like a square pouch. Opening it reveals a deck of cards, too large to be meant for gambling, Isabel thinks, unless it’s a game she doesn’t know of, which is entirely possible. She doesn’t tend to stray into inns or taverns where such things take place. Too many people. 

“You said there was a note?” he asks, shuffling through the cards quietly. 

“I found it while I was shaking the dirt out of your coat, if you recall. You didn’t seem like you were interested in reading it at the time, but I told you-”

“ _’You’ve got friends that love you somewhere, Mollymauk Tealeaf’ _, I remember.” he grins, and then laughs, softly, and then takes in a deep breath and sighs, spreading his arms, cards still in his hand. “There’s never been anything better than _remembering_ things.”__

__“I suppose I’ll take your words for it.” Isabel shifted from one foot to another. “Oh, crackers, look, can we- can we go back to camp? I’ll light the fire again and you can tell me what it is your remember, precisely. I don’t know about you, you’re a tiefling, but it’s rather cold for me.”_ _

__“Oh.” Mollymauk blinks at her, and then tucks his cards back into their bag and slides it into his coat. “Right, sorry. I got a little over-excited. You’re right, we should go back to camp before you freeze to death. What a shame that would be.” he chuckles._ _

__“I’m glad that amuses you.” Isabela passes him and heads back towards the tent. “C’mon, Lad. You too, Mollymauk.” she hears the sound of paws and footsteps following after her._ _

__The fire is almost entirely out in the fire pit. The coals are at least warm enough that it isn’t too difficult to get the flames burning again, with a good bit of tinder and dry wood from her pack. She stokes it with a long stick and sighs with relief as she sits down beside it. Mollymauk plops down easily and crosses his legs, pressing his hands to his knees. The cold doesn’t seem to be bothering him too terribly much._ _

__Laddybuck settles down beside Isabel, perhaps sensing that she’s a bit more cold than their tiefling friend, and leans against her side. She pets his head and looks at Mollymauk, brow raised. “So.” she says, hoping that this is the proper way to start a conversation with someone who, until very recently, was almost entirely non verbal. “Do you, er… want to tell me what you remember, exactly?”_ _

__“Not much.” Mollymauk admits. “I remember waking up and digging my way out of a grave. That seems-” he winces. “...familiar? Somehow? I don’t even want to _think_ about why that is.”_ _

__“Your friends did leave a note with your body.” Isabel comments. “Maybe it happens often.”_ _

__“Reassuring.” he states dryly, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”_ _

__“Speaking of friends, I don’t suppose you remember them?” Isabel asks. “The note said to go to Zadash, so maybe they’re there?”_ _

__“I… remember pieces. A face, or a voice. Nothing solid.” he shrugs._ _

__“Anything about someone called ‘the Gentleman’?”_ _

__He pauses, considers, and then sighs and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”_ _

__“Rose petals… well. I guess that was too much to hope for. I imagine things are probably sort of, you know, painted in broad strokes for you right now. Not that I’ve ever lost my memory, but if I had to guess…” Isabel pauses. “...he’s in Zadash too, though. Apparently.”_ _

__“Well. It’s nice to know where I’m headed, at least.” Mollymauk nods, seemingly pleased with that much. Then he blinks, and makes a face. “Not that I know… exactly where that _is_. Fuck. I suppose I need a map.”_ _

__“You and me both. I know next to nothing about the Dwendalian Empire.” she shrugs. “It’s a bit of a mess, from what I’ve heard, though, and I know that Zadash is a good few weeks travel from here, at the very least. If not more. I can’t imagine it’ll be a very safe journey, either.”_ _

__“Has anyone ever told you that you’re good at filling people with confidence?” he asks, and she shifts uneasily._ _

__“Sorry. I didn’t mean to, er- crackers, I’m very bad at talking to people-”_ _

__“Relax, my dear, I was joking.” Mollymauk gives her a reassuring look. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll make it there in one piece.”_ _

__“Oh.” Isabel hesitates. “You’re… going alone?”_ _

__“You’ve already done a good deal for me, if you haven’t noticed.” he shrugs. “I can’t exactly ask you to do more. Especially since I don’t seem to have any coin to pay you for all the trouble or anything.”_ _

__“I suppose so.” she pets Laddybuck, looking down at the dog, who peers back up at her with a familiar enough look. She sighs, softly. “It’s just, well. It’s not like we have anywhere else we need to be, Lad and I. Like I said, I don’t know much of anything about this land, and I don’t have any ties to anyone here- and, well, getting further away from where we were before is essentially my only goal-”_ _

__“That’s specific.” Mollymauk lifts a brow. “Any reason in particular?”_ _

__“Oh, you know.” she waves a hand dismissively. “...family things. It doesn’t really matter. My point is, if you’re headed toward Zadash, Lad and I might as well come along with you. It’s probably safer to travel with others than alone.”_ _

__“Well-”_ _

__“Unless that’s rude,” Isabel continues, “Because I suppose I did just invite myself along. Petals and pollen, you might want to be on your own or something-” she rubs her forehead and scowls. “You don’t need to feel bad about saying no, just so we’re clear.”_ _

__It’s quiet, for a moment. Then Mollymauk shakes his head, and laughs. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re just _delightfully_ awkward?” he asks._ _

__She shakes her head. “No. But I’ve heard ‘socially inept’ before. I suppose it means about the same thing.”_ _

__He laughs. It’s a nice sound, she thinks. He’s different, so different from the blank, emotionless creature from before. His face is _alive_. He burns with spirit. It’s… reassuring, somehow. _ _

__“Of course you can come along. Both of you. I might not remember much, but I don’t seem to recall being an idiot.” he shrugs. “I’m not about to pass up help when it’s offered freely.”_ _

__“Oh, good.” she sighs with relief. “I suppose the first step is to find a village somewhere and… stock up? I hadn’t planned on it, but then again, I hadn’t really planned for…”_ _

__“Strange purple men with tails joining your duo?” he smirks._ _

__“Exactly.” she finds herself smiling a bit. “We need a map, too. I think Lad can probably sniff out the nearest settlement.”_ _

__“Wonderful. Then we’ve got a plan. And a deal.” Mollymauk leans forward and extends a hand to her. “To Zadash?”_ _

__The fire casts an orange glow over his face as he smiles. His eyes are bright and full of energy. Isabel smiles wider, reaches out and clasps hands with him. “To Zadash.” she echoes._ _

__Laddybuck barks his approval._ _


	5. Social Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _in which Isabel has a panic attack_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Chapter five is here. Isabel, Molly and Lad start to make their way along, but they need supplies first. 
> 
> And of course the first town they find is the frat party capital of Wildemount. Just how Isabel likes it.

They do find a town, by nightfall, but the sound of excess revelry and fireworks is enough to make Isabel seriously reconsider the whole notion.

They stand on a hill just before the town, Laddybuck growling and barking at each burst of fire in the sky. Isabel flinches in time with him, and has to put a hand on his back to steady herself. There's a sign nearby that reads “Hupperdook”, which she assumes is the name of the town itself.

“They seem like they know how to have fun.” Mollymauk seems entirely unperturbed by the noise, watching the town with shining eyes. Somehow, she feels like this is the sort of place he's used to, judging from, well. Look at his coat, his piercings! She, on the other hand… he turns to look at her and motions towards the entrance. “We should go, then?”

“Uhm.” Isabel says, eloquent as ever, and sucks in a breath. “Yes. We should. We need- ah. A map and supplies.” She thinks she has enough for that. 

“We should see if they have a horse or two. It's easier to travel that way.” He watches her, for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“What? Oh, well, yes. Absolutely.” She nods. “It's just, Lad and I don't really do _well_ in large crowds. Especially with the noise. But it should be fine.” She smiles reassuringly. 

Truth to tell, she doesn't want to go in, at all. She'd rather he go by himself and just.. find someone. But she also isn't sure how he'll do in his own, given that he's only recently himself again, and anyway, he seems like- like maybe he'd enjoy it? And he deserves to enjoy something after clawing his way out of a grave.

Mollymauk eyes her for a moment, then shrugs and nods.

“Alright. I'll take your word for it.” She isn't sure if that means he believes her or not, but he walks forward regardless. She hooks her hand into Laddybuck’s collar and follows after him.

Isabel doesn't have nightmares very often, but if she were to imagine one into reality, she suspects it would be something like Hupperdook.

There are gnomes everywhere, laughing and joking, drunk or otherwise inebriated. There are others, some humans, elves, what she imagines are visitors enjoying the atmosphere. There are vendors selling all manner of things, shouting, calling out to passerby to draw them in. 

She's pretty sure her head is going to explode. Laddybuck presses close to her side.

Mollymauk, on the other hand, seems like he's absolutely loving this. He sweeps through the crowd ahead of her, sampling what a few of the food vendors offer, smiling, laughing. A far cry from the bloody, frozen tiefling from a couple of nights previous. This must be the real him, she imagines. Is this who he was before? Who he is, really?

Not the sort of person she'd usually meet, if only because she tends to be a bit antisocial. Nothing against him, personally.

Petals and pollen, she misses the mountains already. 

He starts to get ahead of her, further and further, as the crowd grows larger. He should be easy to spot, they're both of them taller than the gnomes that form the majority of the crowd, but there's so many colors and sound and movement that suddenly she's lost him entirely. 

“Mollymauk?” She calls, and then tries again, louder, “Mollymauk, where did you go?” But the noise of celebration is too loud. Her voice is drowned out easily enough. She sucks in a breath, stopping in her tracks. Laddybuck whines, ears pinned to his head, and looks up at her. 

“It's okay-” she tries to soothe the hound, but suddenly someone shoves against her from behind and she stumbles. Laddybuck turns with a snarl, and Isabel faces a burly gnome in heavy armor, carrying a long sword. 

“'scuse me!” The gnome practically bellows in a jovial, drunken tone. “Gotta keep movin’, lass!” he eyes Laddybuck with little fear, evidently too drunk to know what death in a hound’s bared teeth looks like

 

“Sorry.” Isabel gasps, grabbing Laddybuck’s collar and pulling him to the side. She makes her way towards the edge of the crowd, hoping that she might be able to squeeze through a few of the vendor stalls and find somewhere quiet-

There's a burst of sound and light close by, and confetti rains down on her shoulders. A small gnomish girl holding a tube with a string at one end and the other end open and empty stands beside her, grinning. She has a basket full of more of the things. “Confetti poppers, miss! Three copper apiece!”

Isabel is fairly certain she's going to be terribly sick. 

It becomes a mad scramble to escape, at that point. She let's Laddybuck lead, holding on to his collar as if her very life depends upon it, which suddenly it feels as if it very much does. Her hound finds the quietest place he can, a back alley where the noise of the crowd is at least muffled, and Isabel collapses on her hands and knees beside a pile of trash and promptly vomits onto the ground.

At least most of the passerbys won't notice, she thinks dizzily. They'll just think she's drunk. 

“Crackers.” She gasps, stumbling back until she can sit against the opposite wall. Her bag feels too heavy on her back so she shrugs it off, her hands shaking. She covers her face and sucks in a few rapid breaths. It doesn't feel like enough. 

Laddybuck whines and settles down beside her, then plops his front half into her lap and presses against her chest. She wraps her arms around him and buries her face into his neck; the pressure helps center her, calm her down. She's content to hide and hug her dog and let the world pass by.

That's where Mollymauk finds her, later. She's not entirely sure how much time has passed before she hears footsteps and Laddybuck huffs softly, and she looks up, and there he is in all his colorful glory, brows raised. 

She stares at him for several long moments, and he stares back. She's sure she looks like a mess, frazzled and sweaty and shaking. Then he steps forward, comes closer.

“If you've somehow managed to get drunk already, you'll have to tell me how.” He speaks, crouching down close by. “And if not, what's wrong?” He sounds concerned, a bit. 

“Just.” Talking is difficult but Isabel thinks she can manage. “There's just.. so much. Everything. Out there.” She makes a motion towards the crowd outside of the alley. “Sorry.”

“For what? You're not wrong.” Mollymauk furrows his brow. “You know, when I asked you earlier if you were alright, you could have mentioned you weren't. I wouldn't have been mad.”

“I just wanted to… Get it over with.” She clenches her teeth. “I thought you'd have fun.” she admits.

He looks startled, for a moment, and then laughs. “You've done me enough favors, dear, you don't need to force yourself to do more.” He shakes his head. “Next time just speak up. I wouldn't mind finding somewhere quieter to shop.”

Isabel nods, and then rests her head on Laddybuck’s neck again. “I don't do well in crowds.” She tells him, voice muffled. “I _really very much_ do not do well in crowds.”

“I noticed.” Mollymauk nods and pats her shoulders. “What do you want to do now?”

That's a good question. Isabel sucks in a breath. “I'd like some water.”

“Do you have any?”

“My waterskin is in my bag.” She says. “Middle pocket.”

He fishes it out for her and hands it over, and she uncaps it and takes a long drink. Then she sighs, and looks around. She doubts the party will be ending any time soon. Everyone seems sort of prepared to go on all night, from the looks of it. 

“We still need supplies.” She mutters quietly. “A map. And you- you want to look at horses.” 

“We'd travel faster if we had one or two.” He shrugs. 

“...I like horses.” Isabel strokes Laddybuck’s side. “Well. I liked the mountain ponies back home. Horses aren't so different.” That seems to give him an idea.

“Why don't we do this,” he begins. “I'll take a bit of coin, buy some supplies, a map. Then I'll come back, and we'll find someone selling horses and have a look at the beasts. I doubt they keep their mounts too close to all the noise.” He smiles. “Then we can just camp out before we move on. I don't suppose you'd want to stay here tonight. Fuck, I don't think we actually have the coin for it anyway.”

“Probably not.” She mutters in agreement. The idea of staying at an inn with all the noise outside doesn't seem very fun to her, anyway. 

“Right, perfect. It's decided.” He nods. 

Isabel takes a moment to dig through her bag and offer him the coin. She's only got around twenty gold on her, some silver and copper pieces. It should be more than enough for what they need. She trusts he won't run off with it.

“Just hang around here. It's decently quiet.” Mollymauk leans in and kisses her forehead, then stands, and steps away. “I'll be back shortly!” He sweeps off, leaving Isabel and Laddybuck on their own. It feels less terrifying than before, though. At least this time she knows where he's gone.

Laddybuck licks her chin, and she smiles slightly and hugs him. “We'll be alright, Lad.” She mutters, quietly. “But next time- if there is a next time- we'll just let Mollymauk handle this sort of thing. He's better at it.”


	6. Local Celebrity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _how does one choose a horse, anyway?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter six, here we go! I'm always excited to post one of these. I never thought this story would get much attention at all, let alone as much as it had. I sincerely appreciate it! I'm having a lot of fun writing it.

There’s something sort of fabulous about this place, Mollymauk thinks, as he wades through the crowd of gnomes towards what he assumes is the general goods store. He’s hoping that they’ll be open, despite the ongoing celebration of… what? Nothing specific, he thinks. They just seem to be happy the day is over, which is something he can absolutely get behind. Every day should be a celebration, he thinks. He supposes that clawing oneself out of a grave in the snow would absolutely make someone feel that way. 

“Excuse me.” he slips easily around a small group of gnomish children clustered near to a tavern window. He notices that a few of them stare after him as he walks away, and he hears one nudge another and say, “Isn’t that the one what beat Duncan?”

Which is interesting. He wonders what it means.

The general store seems mostly deserted when he walks in, but the door is unlocked and he sees movement in the back room, so he takes some time to gather a few ration packs from the shelves before he gets to the counter. He leans against it for a moment, then raps on the wood with his knuckles. “Hello? Anyone there?” he calls, lightly.

There’s a _thud_ , and a quiet curse, and he hears the shopkeeper speaking as he rounds the corner, “Who in the blue blazes has the brass t’bother me durin-’ oh!”

He’s a stout, squat man with a long white beard and a bald head hidden underneath a small cap. A pair of spectacles sits balanced on his nose; he squints at Mollymauk at first, and then his eyes widen as he steps up behind the counter. “Well now! Not every day I get a visit from a celebrity!”

Ah. Even more interesting.

Mollymauk leans against the counter and smiles. “Well, even we famous people need to buy things sometimes.” he says, setting the ration packs on the counter. “Those of us that need to eat, anyway. Here I thought I was being inconspicuous, though. What gave me away?”

“Cor, like I’d forget the tiefling what beat Duncan’s pants off in a drinkin’ contest.” the gnome chuckles. He pauses, and then cranes his neck as if he expects someone to be behind his customer. “Where’s that lil’ green girl you were with, eh? Ol’ Blemmy liked to never have lived that one down, bein’ beat by a tiny lil’ midge like that!” he cackles under his breath. “And good for it, too. He was gettin’ too comfortable.”

The phrase ‘lil’ green girl’ gives Mollymauk pause, and he furrows his brow, thinking on it. He remembers-

_Big yellow eyes and a mess of dark green hair and sharp teeth that stick out in all directions, and she doesn’t think she’s brave, but she is, the truest sort he’s ever known-_

He clenches his teeth and forces a small. There’s no name in his mind to go with that memory. He wonders, if he asked around, whether he would find one or not. He’s tempted to do it, but then he thinks of Isabel, still holed up in an alley, and the noise of the party never ending… 

He’ll find answers in Zadash. 

“Oh, she’s out and about. You know how little green girls are.” he says, and laughs softly. “Tell me, my good man, do you happen to have any, er… maps? Preferably of Wildemount.”

“Cor, I’d hope so. Wouldn’t get much use outta one for somewhere else, would you?” the shopkeeper shakes his head. “You’re lucky I’m here at all tonight, you know. Usually I’m out enjoyin’ the festivities, but I had to finish up a bit of inventory and… well, count your lucky stars, I s’pose!” he nods. “Anyways, I do have a map. Only a moment.” he dips into the back room and returns with a rolled-up sheet of canvas. He unties it and spreads it out on the counter.

It is, indeed, a map of Wildemount. It’s well-made, if Mollymauk is any judge, carefully crafted so that each known path is visible, each stretch of empty land. Definitely the sort of thing that would get them where they’re trying to go. He nods his approval. “Perfect, exactly what I’m looking for. How much?”

“Well now.” The gnome sighs softly, thinking. “Don’t sell too many maps, and not all of ‘em are so well done... Oh, I’d say I’d let it go for two gold pieces?” 

Mollymauk shifts some. That is… a good deal of money, all things considered. The pouch Isabel gave him only has three or four gold in it altogether, a bit of silver, more copper than anything. He decides it might be time to use a bit of his apparent charm. He grins. “Well, that seems like a fair price for something made so well.” he says. 

The shopkeeper practically flushes. “Oh, well- well, I made it myself, y’know.”

“Did you? You’ve got talent.” Mollymauk nods to him. “Normally I’d be more than willing to pay as much, but I’m afraid I’m in a sort of emergency situation so- well, I suppose I could do without the map…” he sighs softly. 

The gnome’s face falls, and then his expression lifts again. “Here, I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” he says, leaning in conspiratorially. “Since you dropped Duncan in his tracks, and since your lil’ green pal knocked ol’ Blemmy down a peg or two… how ‘bout I give you a discount?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly-” Mollymauk leans back, and then tilts his head. “What sort of discount?”

“I’ll give it to you for one gold piece, so long as you buy the ration packs full price.”

“I think I can work with that!” Mollymauk nods, and hands over the proper coin. He rolls the map up and ties it, tucking it into his coat. “Thank you, good sir.”

“Think nothin’ of it. Don’t s’pose you’ll be hangin’ around for another drinkin’ contest, will you?” the shopkeeper raises one bushy brow. “I could make a fair bit of coin, bettin’.”

Mollymauk smiles, a little mournfully. “Sadly, not this visit. Next time, though, I’m sure of it. Thank you… oh. Also, before I go,” he half-turns, then pauses, “Do you know anyone who sells horses?”

==

“Well, don’t you look better.”

Isabel looks up when Mollymauk speaks, shifting some where she’s seated. She’s tried to clean herself up a little, smoothed her hair a bit and had a little bit of bread to eat, more water. She feels a bit more comfortable, anyway, sitting cross-legged with Laddybuck’s head on her knee. She’s glad to see her companion return, though, and with ration packs in his hands. 

“I feel a little better.” she tells him, moving Laddybuck’s head so that she can stand, brushing off her pants. “You found a general store?”

“Of course.” Molly nods, offering her the rations. “Very friendly guy running the place. He even gave me a discount.” his eyes twinkle. “Evidently I’m a local celebrity.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” she says, turning to tuck the packages into her bag. Then she blinks, and looks back at him. “Wait. Sorry, what?”

“Yes, apparently I’ve been here before.” he nods. “And apparently, I won a drinking contest. Well- with my friends.”

“Oh that’s- well.” Isabel watches him. “Did you find anything out _about_ your friends? Er, rose petals, that sounded rude. I mean-”

“I know what you meant. I didn’t get much. I did… remember, but only vaguely. No names.” he shrugs. He doesn’t act as if that bothers him much, but Isabel wonders. She shifts from one foot to the other, glancing down at Laddybuck. The hound meets her gaze and twitches an ear. 

“Well. Anyway, did you, er, get a map?” she asks, deciding to change the subject. Mollymauk perks and nods, reaching into his coat and pulling out the rolled canvas.

“I’m no map maker, but it looks well made.” he says, as he hands it over. She takes a minute to unroll it and look it over. She smiles and nods her approval. 

“This is helpful. Good job, Mollymauk.” she tucks it into her bag, and then hefts the heavy pack onto her back.

“You know, you can call me Molly, if you want.”

“Oh.” she rolls up the map. “...well. I can do that, if you want. If you’re okay with it.”

“I’m fine with it. That’s why I offered.” he chuckles. “I promise not to call you ‘Izzy’.”

She makes a face. “Ah. You remember that. Of course.”

“You _were_ talking directly to me.”

“I was, but I sort of- wasn’t even sure how much you could… retain.” she sighs. “Well. We should find a stable somewhere for the horses…” she glances out of the alley, towards the crowd, and winces. 

“Oh, I actually thought ahead for that, too. The shopkeeper said there’s a stable on the edge of town where we might find something.” he nods. “He said I shouldn’t expect there to be any show quality beasts, but I didn’t think that mattered much, anyway.”

“I don’t think so, either.” she nods. “Do you know the way?”

“I’ve got the gist of it.” Mollymauk studies her, watching her eyes flick from him to the crowd. “...will you be alright going back through the crowd, for a bit?”

She sucks in a breath. “...I… should be.” she says. When he gives her a raised brow, she scowls. “I mean it. I should be, this time, as long as we hurry. And you don’t get too far ahead, this time.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry about that.” he smiles at her. “Here. Try this.” he takes her hand and tucks her arm through his, so that she’s standing beside him. “Now Lad can stand on your other side, and…” the hound steps up beside her and she reaches down and grasps his collar. Mollymauk beams. “There. Now we’re a wall. Foes will tremble before our might.”

She laughs, faintly, and nods. “Alright. Let’s go.”

It’s an easier time through the crowd, at least for Isabel. They move quickly, finding the places where there aren’t quite so many people, ducking around large groups and keeping together. Laddybuck presses comfortingly against her side and whines when they start blasting off fireworks overhead, again. “Almost there,” she tells the hound, gritting her own teeth against the noise. Quietly, to herself, she says, “Almost there.”

Eventually, they leave the main crowds behind. People become more sparse, wandering on their own towards their homes, or heading back towards the center of town. The noise becomes softer, more distant. After a time, Isabel can even hear the comforting sounds of nighttime wildlife, a few crickets- it’s a bit cold for many of them- or an owl hooting softly. It relaxes her a good deal. 

“There, that’s better.” Mollymauk says when they’re far enough off. In the distance, she can see the roof of a stable, growing taller as they approach. Soon enough they can see the stable doors, opened, and the interior, lit softly with lamps. “I expect there should be someone here tending the animals. I don’t think horses like fireworks either, in general, so-”

There’s a terrible _boom_ and a flash of light, a firework- just one- exploding overhead. There’s a loud squeal, and the sound of breaking wood, and suddenly there’s a massive horse barrelling out of the stable doors, screaming in panic as it runs. Someone has hold of it’s reins, but they trip quickly and are dragged for a few feet before they let go. 

“Runaway horse!” cries the woman in the dirt behind the beast. “Watch out!”

Which is good advice for them, because the beast is now thundering directly towards them.


	7. Horse Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _oh, that's how_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday night! I'm currently watching Critical Role live as I post this. Figured I'd go ahead and get it finished up! Hope ya'll enjoy.

Isabel isn't entirely sure what to expect, in that brief moment. The horse does not at all seem to be intent on stopping. It's a big beast, clearly meant for field work, all thundering hooves and panicked eyes. She's never tried to bond with a horse like this, not at all the same as the mountain ponies she's used to, and she's also not sure if she could manage if she tried, given how panicked it is. 

Mollymauk pulls to the side and out of the way, and drags her along with him. She goes easily enough, feeling the wind brush against her as the horse gallops by. She blinks, and then whistles sharply. Laddybuck jerks to attention in seconds, and Isabel points to the retreating horse. “Herd it back this way!” She tells him.

Laddybuck gallops off after the horse, and so Isabel takes a moment to drop her bag and dig through it. “Ah, just curious, what the hell are you doing?” Mollymauk demands from beside her. 

“If it runs out in a panic like that it might hurt itself.” She says, grabbing a length of good rope from her bag. “Especially with the reins still on. If Lad can get it back this way I can maybe get a rope around it's neck. It's so big it probably can't run fast for very long-”

“Is that a risk you want to take, though? That's a big horse. That's- well fuck here it comes.” Mollymauk sucks in a breath and moves away. Isabel stands up and looks, and indeed, Laddybuck has overtaken the horse and is nipping at it's heels, driving it back towards the stable. It isn't moving quite as fast as before, but it's a powerful creature and it doesn't seem like it wants to stop. 

Isabel says a quiet prayer to whatever horse god is responsible for this thing, and then steps in the way.

It seems like the beast expects her to move, but she stands her ground. Mountain ponies are stubborn little things and she's faced a charge before, although never from such a big animal. The horse pulls up short, slowing it's run as it comes close, and Isabel tosses the rope towards it's head and steps out of the way, setting her feet and pulling hard on the rope to keep from being jerked off her feet. The horse moves by and the rope pulls tight.

In that moment, Isabel considers that maybe this wasn't quite the smartest idea. 

The horse only slows, does not stop. Isabel stumbles forward, goes onto her knees and winces as she’s pulled a few feet before, suddenly, the rope pulls taut again as Laddybuck latches his teeth into the free end of the rope and pulls with a snarl. He's a big dog and it helps; the horse is forced to at least be still, though it shifts and threatens to rear again. Isabel scrambles to her feet and holds tight, her hands burning as the rope digs in.

Purple hands grab hold of it's reins and pull it down. “Easy! You big monster, settle down-” Mollymauk grouses as he pulls. The horse has no choice but to be still now, panting for breath, glaring at the tiefling now preventing it from raising it's big head. Mollymauk glares back, then looks at Isabel. “If you have a plan- hold _still_ you big- I'd go ahead and do it!”

Isabel reaches out and smoothes a hand down the horse's neck and side. “Easy.” She says. She feels the magic form between them, the warm, panicked shape of the horse calming as the bond washes over it, forming a tether from it to her. She murmurs softly, eyes half-lidded as she soothes it. Nothing else in the world matters, right now. She can hear only the sound of the horse breathing, hard and heavy, the thud of it's massive heart in it's chest, the trembling muscles of it's legs.

“You're alright.” She says, dropping the rope entirely. She runs her hand over it's cheek and the bridge of it's nose, moves around to blow gently in it's nose, greeting it properly. “I know it frightened you, but you're fine now. Don't hurt yourself.” 

The horse whickers, softly, and she feels when it relaxes, when it's eyelids drop some and it leans in to lip gently at her shirt. She smiles and cards her fingers through it's forelock. “Good. Thank you.” She has a chance to see the big beast properly now. It’s a mare, a blue roan with a white star on her forehead. She has large, shaggy hooves and her mane and tail are so black they’re almost blue. 

She also notices the series of scars on the horse’s withers and hindquarters. Isabel narrows her eyes; someone’s been unkind to this animal.

Then she becomes aware that she’s not alone with the horse, and that there are, in fact, other people. Laddybuck at her side, tail wagging slightly, that’s no problem. But Mollymauk is also there, holding the reins and watching her with curious red eyes, and the woman from before, who lost hold of the horse in the first place, has also approached, and is standing not too far away now, arms crossed over her chest. 

She’s a gnome, though she’s a bit tall for it. She is exceedingly powerful, evidenced by the muscles in her arms from probably years of caring for horses, and her nose is crooked in a way that makes Isabel think it’s been broken more than once. She’s got piercing green eyes that she’s currently studying the group of them with. Isabel feels remarkably out of place. She clears her throat and steps away from the horse. 

“Ah. Sorry.” 

The woman blinks, and then her tough face splits into a grin. She laughs, deep from her belly. “What the fuck are you sorry for?” she asks, shaking her head. “Saved me the trouble havin’ to look for her, outside the town. Good work.”

“Yeah, it was impressive.” Mollymauk tells her with a smile, then pauses, and glances down at her legs. “You, ah, do seem to be bleeding, though.”

“What?” Isabel looks down and sees that, during the brief time the horse was dragging her, she managed to tear holes in the knees of her pants, and, indeed, she is bleeding, and dirty. It stings. She thinks there is probably more than one pebble in her skin. “Petals and pollen.” she mutters. “That’s just what I need.” The horse, perhaps sensing that she’s caused pain for her new friend, cranes her neck and sniffs gently at Isabel’s scrapes. She whickers softly. 

“‘Least she didn’t drag you through stable muck.” the woman says. “Come on back to the stable and I’ll fix you up.” she pauses, then extends a hand. “Name’s Carsa, by the way. Thanks for the help.”

Isabel stares at her hand for several long moments before she, hesitantly, reaches out for it. Mollymauk intercepts her, clasping his palm against Carsa’s and shaking vigorously. “Nice to meet you!” he says, and then hands her the reins he was holding. “Spirited beasts you keep here.” Isabel picks up her bag and smiles a little. 

“Oh, everyone’s spirited in Hupperdook.” Carsa answers, turning and heading off towards the stable, leading the horse along with her, seemingly assured that the trio will follow as well. They do, since there’s not really a reason not to. “In particular this girl, though. Poor thing’s seen so much… well, and when I find our which little shit it was, shootin’ fireworks off so close to the stable… guarantee it was one of those Cooper siblings. Sent my man Heen off to catch ‘em if he could.” she leads them into the stable.

It smells like hay and wood, a little like manure, and horse. Mollymauk wrinkles his nose at the scent, but Isabel relaxes visibly. It reminds her a little of being back in the kennels; there’s something pure about a place meant for animals, even if there are people inside it, too. 

“Sit here, miss. Didn’t catch your name.” Carsa says, pointing to a pile of square hay bales, and then leading the horse inside a stall. Isabel does what she’s told, sitting down and muttering quietly as she examines the damage to her pants. They’re not so much _torn_ as they are _shredded_ at the knees. She doesn’t think it’s the sort of thing she can fix with just a needle and thread. Maybe, if she makes patches for them from a piece of scrap cloth… 

“Miss?” Carsa has returned, carrying a healer’s kit. 

“Hm? Oh.” Isabel blinks. “My name. Sorry, it’s- Isabel.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Carsa smiles. “What about your friend there?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service.” Mollymauk does a bit of a bow. “Literally at your service, I guess. We did help your mad horse.”

“I seem to recall that was mostly her.” Carsa comments, quirking a brow and nodding to Isabel. 

“I helped.” he sniffs, then looks like he wishes he hadn’t. The smell of a stable can be a bit overpowering sometimes, Isabel knows. Maybe he doesn’t even remember ever smelling one before. “Do you have an extra pair of pants, Isabel?”  
“I should.” she shrugs her bag down onto the space beside her and looks through. She tends to keep a spare pair of clothes for just such occasions; after all, one doesn’t spend time in the company of beasts without expecting to end up with mess on them, at some point. She finds her spare pants. Mollymauk turns around and crosses his arms, staring out of the stable as she pulls off her ruined pants. 

“I’m, uh, glad we could help.” Isabel says, wincing as Carsa uses a cloth soaked in some sour-smelling liquid to wipe her legs free of blood. “I guess she’s just not used to fireworks so close by? The- the horse, I mean.”

Carsa gives her a look that plainly says she knew she meant the horse, then shakes her head. “Well, no. Oh, we keep the horses away from the main square, but most of ‘em are used to the sound enough they don’t rightly care… Phina, she’s new, though. Poor thing’s seen a bit of hard times.” 

“How so?” Isabel furrows her brow. 

“Well, she’s not one of ours, if you couldn’t tell by her size.” Carsa chuckles. “We gnomes don’t tend to use big beasts like her. Sort of hard to control, you know. Couple days ago, though, Heen found her wanderin’ a field, blood all over her legs and scarred up on the hind parts. Near as I can figure, she lost her rider in some kinda fight. Judgin’ from the look of her, and her attitude, anyway.”

“Oh… how sad.” 

“Aye. Anyway, I’m a soft touch for horses in general, so I said, well, let’s bring her in. Maybe there’s somethin’ I can do… but I think all the noise from the town is a bit too much for her. Hard for her to calm down after whatever she’s been through, with folks celebratin’ each and every night.” she scours the scrapes for debris, finds two pebbles in one scrape, and then smears a balm over top of them before she applies a layer of bandages. Finally, Isabel can put on her new pants. She folds the old ones up and tucks them into her bag. Hopefully she can clean them and figure out a way to repair them later. 

“Good as new. Well, almost.” Carsa chuckles as she stands. “Just keep ‘em clean ‘till they heal. Anyway, were you folks needin’ somethin’? Looked like you were headed this way before Phina broke out to welcome you.” 

“Actually, we were here to possibly buy a horse.” Mollymauk turns around, now that Isabel is dressed. “We’ve got a sort of journey ahead of us. Much easier with one, or two.”

“Aye, it is that.” Carsa nodded. “Well, we’ve got a few you might like, if you want to take a look…” she starts to lead them down the rows of stalls. 

There are, indeed, several horses there. Most of them seem to be smaller breeds, the sort a gnome might favor, and Isabel sees a few ponies now and then. They pass by Phina’s stall, and the big horse snorts in greeting, eyes lighting up at the sight of them. Isabel smiles, and goes over to give her a pet on the snout. 

“Isabel.” Mollymauk calls, further down the line of stalls. She looks up, and he waves a hand. “Come and see this one, tell me what you think!” she leaves Phina and joins him, peering into the stall he’s interested in. Inside is a sprightly looking horse with a red pelt and white socks on all four feet. 

“That’s Freely. Oh, he’s a good sort for travel.” Carsa nods approvingly. “Stronger than he looks, so long as you don’t ride him to pieces.”

“Can’t imagine we would.” Mollymauk answers, eyeing Isabel. “What do you think?”

“Me?” she looks at him.

“You _are_ sort of the animal handler here.” he tells her. 

“Oh. I guess I am. He’s gelded?” she looks at Carsa, who nods affirmative, then turns back to the horse. He snorts and tosses his head, and she smiles a little. “He’s got a good personality. He’s not the largest horse I’ve ever seen, but I think he could hold one of us at a time, easily.”

“Perfect. How much?” Mollymauk asks Carsa.

“Well, he’s a good horse, that one. Level-headed, pleasant, oh… I’d let him go for maybe fifty gold.”

“Petals and _pollen_ ,” Isabel breathes. “I don’t have _nearly_ that much.”

“How much have you got?”

Mollymauk sighs softly. “Three gold pieces. A handful of silver and coppers. I should have figured we’d be short.”

“That’s ten paces past just ‘short’.” Carsa says dryly. She sighs, and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t give you a discount for quite that much. Got to make a profit, don’t I?”

“I suppose so.” Isabel sighs and shakes her head. “It’s fine. We’ll just have to get by on foot, like before. We’ll be slower, but we’ll get there.”

“That’s true. At least we tried.” Mollymauk shrugs. “We appreciate the help anyway, horse-woman.”

“Name’s Carsa.” the gnome tells him abruptly, then studies Isabel for several moments. Finally, she says, “What about Phina?”

“What? Oh, we couldn’t afford- she’s _enormous_ , and she’s probably more expensive than the other.”

“More expensive to _feed_ , I think you mean.” snorts Carsa. “Empty belly-bag’s runnin’ my feed bills up so high you wouldn’t dare believe it.”

“Still, we couldn’t…” Isabel furrows her brow. 

 

“...tell you what.” Carsa props a fist on her hip. “You take that big beauty off my hands. Pay me three silver for a bit and bridle, and a saddle, and she’s your problem to feed.” she grins. “I warn you, you’ll like as not pay as much for her belly as you would for that other beast, in time.”

“We- that’s so-” Isabel doesn’t spend much time around people, but she does understand how money works, and what the horse-mistress is offering would put her out by quite a bit. A draft horse like Phina, even one that’s skittish about loud noises… she shakes her head. “We couldn’t possibly-”

“We’ll take her.” Mollymauk interjects suddenly. When Isabel glares, he holds up his hands defensively. “Well, unless you plan to pull a horse out of that bag of yours, it’s the best offer we’ve got. You can’t be so rich you’d pass up a mostly-free horse.”

“Only until she gets hungry.” Carsa grumbles. “Don’t act like I’m doin’ anyone favors. I’d never live it down.”

Isabel sucks in a breath, then turns her head and looks down the line of stalls. Phina has stuck her nose out of the little window in her stall, but it’s a bit undersized so it’s mostly just her lips wiggling around in open space. Isabel smiles, slightly, and Laddybuck whuffs and nudges her hand with his nose. She looks down at him. “Traitor.” she calls him. He lolls out his tongue and wags his tail. She sighs, and then looks at Carsa.

“You heard Mollymauk, I guess.” she says. “We’ll take her.”


End file.
